


sharpen your knife

by kitoky



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitoky/pseuds/kitoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Lola becomes indelibly tangled in the power struggle between King Francis and the devious Lord Narcisse. She finds herself having to confront the realities of her position at court and what happiness her heart leads her to actually means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. twisted fools

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergence, AU from 2x07 _The Prince of the Blood_ onward, with small canon details tweaked. Since this is written post-2x08 _Terror of the Faithful_ , I'm using some of the scenes established in that episode (also with minor changes). As you may have guessed, I wasn't satisfied with what happened in 2x08 which is why I'm writing an AU.
> 
> This is an exploration of Lola's struggle to stay on top of the political conflict between Francis and Narcisse after they both place her in an impossible dilemma.
> 
> FYI - No main characters in a story where the protagonists are all either French or Scottish should be speaking English so here are language indicators for dialogue.
> 
> "French." -spoken between Frenchmen/women and between French and Scots majority of the time.  
> 「Scottish Gaelic. 」-spoken primarily between two or more Scots.
> 
> **Please do not repost or re-publish on any other site.**

「My lady,」 her maidservant announces. 「The Queen Mary and the ladies de Poitiers and Castleroy have come to visit.」

 

Lola sighs and pats her son through his swaddle in relief or frustration, she isn’t sure. 「Of course. Let them in.」 She pulls her dress up over her shoulder, giving up on trying to feed Jean. Soon, the familiar faces of her beloved friends join around her by the fireplace. 

 

「Lola, we hope we’re not disturbing you,」 Greer says politely. Kenna plops down next to her on the settee and starts cooing at Jean-Philippe. 

 

「Of course not,」 Lola smiles, thanking Greer for tying her dress closed despite her bandaged arm. 「I’m glad for the visit. It feels a lifetime since we’ve been able to sit down and talk.」 

 

The ladies all nod and Mary looks apologetic, 「I’m afraid that’s partially my doing. I’ve been so caught up in things lately. And Francis…」

 

「What’s he done now?」 Kenna immediately asks, preparing to lash out if necessary. The girls laugh fondly at Kenna and even Mary gives a chuckle before looking down at her fiddling hands.

 

「We’ve just been distant with each other lately,」 she begins. 「And I suppose it’s all my fault. You all know how disappointed he is about not having an heir yet.」Kenna and Greer reach over to place comforting hands on hers. 「Thank you, truly. And with Narcisse and the edict. I don’t understand how he could have done it.」 She turns to Greer then, 「I’m so sorry. I really did try to stop it.」

 

「I know, and I thank you for it,」 Greer squeezes her hand. 

 

「More troubling is the fact that Francis would sign it willingly,」 Lola says. 「It doesn’t sound like him at all.」

 

Mary nods, 「A few weeks ago, I might’ve agreed. But lately it seems like he’s scared of something but he won’t talk to me. And when I pressed… well. Everything’s been so tense between us he’s even suggested I return to Scotland.」 Greer and Kenna exchange surprised looks. Lola is quiet, unsure whether to speak of what Narcisse revealed to her just the day before. It further confuses her as to why Francis would fail to tell Mary himself.

 

「You conceived before, Mary, and you’ll do it again. I’m sure of it,」says Kenna. 「They say stress can even harm your chances. A little patience and you’ll pop out a play friend for this little one.」 She taps Jean-Philippe on the nose, only the babe's face scrunches up at the touch of her cold fingers and he starts fidgeting.

 

「May I hold him, Lola?」Mary asks, eyes shining in the firelight.

 

「I would love that,」 answers Lola. Kenna shifts so that Lola could come beside Mary, transferring over the swaddled babe. Before the boy starts to truly wail, Mary settles him into her arms and he quiets once again, content. Lola presses her hands into her lap and watches the Queen Mary hold the small Baron of Vallie, but more importantly she watches as her dearest friend hold her son. 

 

「Look, you have the instincts of a mother already,」 Greer says and Mary smiles.

 

「It’s true,」 Lola gains her queen’s attention. 「He can be a perfect nightmare when he’s fussy, but it seems you’ve got the mother’s touch.」

 

Mary shakes her head, 「By simply holding a baby? It takes more to be a mother than quieting a babe, I’m sure.」

 

「Well he doesn’t like _me_ at all when I hold him,」says Kenna. 「So it’s clear you’ve got something I don’t.」 They laugh at Kenna’s light self-depreciation. Kenna then asks Greer of her newly acquired married life, and the sudden gaggle of children. They chatter between themselves while Lola and Mary enjoy Jean’s calmness. Mary’s face is open with all her hopes and yearning as she gazes down at the little Baron and Lola silently prays for them to be fulfilled. Lola places a gentle hand on Mary’s knee and gives an understanding squeeze. Mary looks up to her, and Lola is taken by surprise at the look of gratefulness.

 

And she decides that she must do everything she can for Mary, including seeking out Francis herself.

 

++

 

At mid-afternoon the next day, Lola arrives outside of Francis’s cabinet room. The guard retreats to ask the king’s leave to enter and Lola is not surprised when he returns with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, my lady. His Majesty does not wish to be disturbed at this time.”

 

“I see,” she says, straightening her back. “I will make sure you are not to blame for what I must do.” And with only sputters of protest from the guard, she barges through the door.

 

“My lady!” he cries and bows to the king. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

 

“Lola,” Francis sighs, leaning on his knuckles from behind his desk. “Now’s not a good time.”

 

 _Is it ever?_ Whatever Francis’s excuses, she’s heard all of them and most times she would let it pass. But today she was here for Mary, as her subject but more so as her friend.

 

“Your Majesty, I need to speak with you.” Lola says with as much gravity to her voice as possible, and it must have succeeded as there is a flicker of concern in Francis’s eyes. Soon, he waves the guard to leave. 

 

She waits for the door to close, suddenly feeling anxious about where this conversation may lead. The tips of her fingers pick at one another, a nervous habit she’s developed from somewhere. She thinks of Mary and she thinks of Narcisse, and she thinks of what a grand mess this all is. But mostly she tries to look at Francis and imagine him a patricide. Lola thinks of the young man just a year ago, who had saved she and her brother from a highly unpleasant Maurice Bicett. Is it possible that Narcisse had lied to her? Twisted her into thinking poorly of Francis? In the end, was it so bad that King Henry was dead – killed or otherwise?

 

Francis’s face is expectant and Lola struggles to find her words.

 

“It’s about Mary,” she starts. “I was with her earlier and she was upset. She’s upset with some frequency, to be truthful.”

 

At this, Francis averts his gaze suddenly showing agitation. _It must be true._ “I am aware.” 

 

“I’m sure you are, Your Majesty,” says Lola, swallowing hard when Francis begins to gather scrolls and makes his way to leave. She begins to panic, wondering if he will blatantly dismiss her before she is finished. “I know why you do this! I know why push her away, enough to threaten to send her to back to Scotland.”

 

Francis brushes past her and in her frustration Lola says it.

 

“I know the truth of King Henry’s death.”

 

There was a long quiet as she watches Francis’s back to her, the long quiet of his realization and of the volatile position she had just put herself in. Finally, he turns to her again.

 

“Narcisse told me, even admitting that he’s been blackmailing you.” And suddenly, all she could see was Francis’s wild, frantic eyes coming closer as he grabs her to drag her from the door.

 

“This is very _dangerous_ knowledge, Lola,” he nearly hisses. “Why would he tell you?”

 

She’d been asking herself that for the past two days. “I don’t pretend to understand how his mind works, but I suspect he may have wanted me on his side should you use me against him.”

 

“And I did,” Francis admits. Lola silently nods. “Has he told anyone else? Do you know?”

 

Lady Lola could only shake her head, “No, but there is one person that _you_ should tell, and that is _Mary_.” 

 

“No,” Francis immediately shakes his head, and once again he is retreating at the mention of Mary. “Narcisse’s treachery goes beyond what he might have mentioned in your _covert_ conversations.” His insinuation was enough to rile her.

 

“Narcisse told me the truth! Which is more than what could be said of you,” Lola spats. “You say Narcisse is a dangerous man yet you send me to him still, putting me at risk of his mercy. All to protect _yourself_.”

 

She watches as Francis struggles to keep his composure. Lola remembers the night at the Burgundy House. _How far we’ve come._ “My own safety does not concern me. It is Mary that I am protecting. My mother, my brothers, and _our baby_. Did he fail to tell you that he threatened them as well?”

 

Lola stops then, the beating of her heart suddenly as loud as trumpets. She could feel the blood pumping through her fingertips. _My baby._ “He threatened our son.” She repeats more as a fact than a question. 

 

“You sympathize with Narcisse. Is that why you didn’t hide that envelope at his estate as I asked? Speak truly, are you on his side?”

 

 _Yes._

 

_No._

 

Lola takes a moment to close her eyes, taking in all that Francis had told her. _He threatened my baby._ Here she came to push Francis into telling Mary a truth, but she found herself on the brink of another. _Francis doesn’t know of the envelopes. But neither does Narcisse._

 

She could use this.

 

“My loyalty is to Mary, my Queen.” Says Lola, resolute. It is not untrue.

 

Francis jumps at the opportunity. “Your queen’s life is being threatened. The only way to save her and my marriage is to be rid of Narcisse.”

 

“Narcisse is a powerful man. There must be another way. One that doesn’t put blood on my hands,” Lola insists. “You must _tell_ Mary, you have to _trust her._ Do not think the state of your marriage is at the fault of Narcisse alone. You two have bested Narcisse together before. You can do it _again_.” 

 

He turns from her, leaning on his hands, contemplating. After a moment, he speaks, “Did you know of Mary’s ploy back then?”

 

Confused, Lola could only utter her thoughts. “What?”

 

“I suppose Narcisse failed to tell you as well? That Mary and my mother also plotted my father’s death before the tourney. I put a stop to it, but Narcisse was able to pry that secret from the priest that they ordered to poison my father.” 

 

Lola remembers now of hearing of an attempt on King Henry’s life. Of the King taking private confession only to nearly be stabbed by a guard. Yes, poison was more Catherine’s way. The guard was not Catherine’s nor Mary’s.

 

“Narcisse is accusing Catherine and Mary of treason as well?” Lola realizes. “So no matter what, they are involved should Narcisse choose to come forth.” At Francis’s nod, nothing could be clearer. She leans into his eyesight, catching his attention. She hoped that her genuine sympathy would convince him. “Then you have no reason to keep Mary in the dark anymore. She is in danger whether she knows of your regicide or not. Francis, it’s time – it is long overdue, in fact.”

 

His eyes move intently between hers for a long moment, until he grabs a small booklet and heads to leave. She didn’t have the energy to stop him again, saying all that she could say. But he stops short of the door, and turns.

 

“Be careful of Narcisse. He is capable of terrible things.” The doors shut behind him, leaving her alone in the room.

 

_Aren’t we all?_

 

++

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

_“Who is it?” Lola hears Greer call. She hoped that she would be a friendly face, if not a wanted one._

_「Lola, dear. Mary’s told me what’s happened and I’m worried,」 she calls, thumbing the envelope in her hands._

_The door opens, surprising Lola and she is pulled in. Greer hastily closes the door. 「I hope no one heard you.」_

_「Greer? What is the matter?」 Lola was more concerned now, and she sees Greer’s bandaged wrist. 「Mary was right, you’re in a right state.」_

_「How much did Mary tell you?」 Greer asks._

_「Only that you’re back from your honeymoon, and that you’re hurt and upset. She asked me to check in on you.」_

_Greer visibly calms, and it only makes Lola more curious. 「Mary’s too kind. Lord Castleroy and I just ran into a few thugs going through one of the cities, is all. They robbed us of our coin and gifts, which cut our trip short to say the least.」_

_「Greer, that’s horrible.」 Lola leads her friend to sit down with her. 「Does it hurt very much?」 She takes her hand gingerly._

_「It will leave a scar, surely, but it should heal in a bit of time,」 says Greer._

_Lola nods. 「Now tell me what’s_ really _upset you.”」She shoots Greer a look when she goes to protest._

_「You mustn’t tell anyone,」 Greer presses._

_「Of course, that goes without saying.」_

_The new Lady Castleroy takes a moment, staring intently across the room at the closed door. 「Castleroy is Protestant.」_

_And Lola is amazed at how a simple declaration could mean so many things. This simple fact, in light of the recent violence between Catholics and Protestants… Lola looks down at Greer’s bandage again. 「So it wasn’t just petty thieves.」_

_「No,」 Greer admits._

_Catholics and Protestants taking arms against each other. Lola wonders if France is truly at risk of being a Protestant state, much like Scotland. What sort of violence occurred back home? She recalls of Mary’s retelling of the conflict between Narcisse and Lord Conde regarding his nephew. Was Narcisse a perpetrator of violence against Protestants? Is that why Francis needed surety against Narcisse?_

_「I’m afraid I have a favor to ask of you. I know you’re not in any condition but… this might help you in the end,」 Lola takes the envelope and shows it to Greer._

_「What is it?」_

_「Francis has asked me to hide this at Lord Narcisse’s home. I’m not sure what it is, only that it’s some sort of code and that it’s some sort of assurance to keep Narcisse in line,」 Lola tries to explain. Greer looks at her, confused._

_「Why is he asking you?」 she questions._

_Lola looks down, remembering that Narcisse first approached her at Greer’s wedding and the Lady Castleroy had been gone since then. 「Lord Narcisse and I are… We’ve been talking.」_

_Greer is as completely taken aback as she expected her to be. 「You and Narcisse? Lola, the last time you spoke of Narcisse, it was with venom and disgust and you tried to sneak his wife away!」_

_She flushes and shakes her head, 「I know, I can’t explain it. He intrigues me, I suppose. He took interest in me at your wedding – and I know, it may be to get to Francis but… he hasn’t really questioned me about Francis at all.」_

_「It’s all very suspicious,」 Greer says, and Lola couldn’t argue with that. 「But now you’re trying to frame him?」_

_「I’m not sure what I’m helping to frame him of!」 Lola exclaims, 「Only could I ask you to make a copy of it? You’ve always been the most sure of hand.」_

_Greer takes the envelope and opens it, only to look helplessly at Lola. 「It all seems like gibberish. It does seem to be some sort of code. Some English words here, I think. I wonder what it is?」_

_「Francis wouldn’t tell me,」 Lola admits. 「I guess it’s best I didn’t know.」_

_「Or maybe it’s more dangerous not knowing?」 says Greer. She takes pity on Lola’s anxious look. 「I’ll do it. Don’t worry.」_

_Lola gives her friend a grateful smile, watching her leave to sit at her desk._

Maybe. 


	2. the thing that i once was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Reign is the super quality show we all know, it's often forgotten that these characters are either French or Scottish and not, in fact, English. And given the setting of the show, it's silly to assume that they are speaking English. 
> 
> For your reference and to be more accurate in context of history (though why we should bother, I don't even know), dialogue spoken in "quotations" are in French while dialogue spoken in these「frames 」are in Scottish Gaelic. I speak neither languages so bear with me. The show also fails to give us any history behind the ladies, so I've assigned Lola to be from the House of Douglas from the Scottish Lowlands.

Lola spends the next day turning over Francis’s words in her head. _Threatened our baby. Are you on his side? He is capable of terrible things._ When before her reflections of Narcisse would cheer her and send her heart astir, now her muddled thoughts were only accompanied by a drop in the stomach and a headache. What more, it disheartened her greatly to be conspiring with Francis to keep such a secret from Mary.

 

She swore that she was done with hurting Mary, yet Lola finds herself constantly in binding circumstances. Lola shakes herself, scolding. _Whose fault is that?_

 

It was so to easy divert the blame. _Francis initiated it. Narcisse pursued_ me _. Francis’s claim on Jean-Philippe traps me here._

 

She was done making excuses.

 

There was a threat to her baby and her queen. Catherine de Medici once titled her ‘the Strong One’. Where was that girl now?

 

While her logical mind races to find a solution, her heart throws obstacles in its path. From the start, she knew Narcisse to be a dangerous man. She knew it the moment he lead a caravan carrying Estelle in a cage. But since his invitation for tea, she found herself unable to put Estelle’s memory first.

 

There was something altogether enchanting about Lord Narcisse, with his charming smiles and distasteful japes. The more improper he came across, the more vulnerable she was to his flashes of kindness – the brief moments when his eyes shone a bit more, his grin more boyish than man. Perhaps that is the reason that she couldn’t dismiss him even when citing loyalty to Francis. While she quickly rebuffed his kiss, her heart was a bird rattling in its cage and she all but forgot her intentions.

 

Lola was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. But that was just the sting – the moth was always meant to burn. Was it a game all along? Did she so easily slip herself into Narcisse’s pocket so that he could use her son against Francis?

 

 _I have no ulterior motive, Lola_.

 

She wanted to believe that. In that instance, she was relieved at not having told Francis the nature of the cipher. But the longer she criticized her every interaction with Narcisse, the more questions she had in light of Narcisse’s confession. _Why_ had he told her? Was it trust, as he said? Or was it another move in his secret chess game, to manipulate her further?

 

So wrapped up in her own thoughts, Lola had mistakenly plucked hemlock instead of fennel on her hunt for herbs. Her frustrations of late has left Jean-Philippe more hungry than satisfied, as she’d been struggling to breastfeed. In Douglas, the ladies of court would say a remedy of fennel would help a mother’s breast milk flow. Lola is only grateful that it was of season, and with discretion she had her mare saddled for the afternoon to go scavenging. It would do her good for fresh air and some peace and quiet.

 

 _Only it’d do you no good to poison yourself, you clumsy fool._ She takes a moment to remove the hemlock from her basket, glad to find that only a few stems had actually slipped in. _A few more should do it_ , she thinks before the sound of Rosie’s braying catches her attention.

 

「Rosie? 」she calls, turning in the direction she had left her mare. She is only met with silence. 「Rosie, over here ol’ girl. 」She hears hooves just then, but turns to see something that further distresses her.

 

 _No. No. Not now_.

 

“Lady Lola!” his voice was just as playful since their last meeting in the shadowed corners of the castle. As if nothing was amiss, as if she hadn’t discovered the terrible revelations of his threats. Lola tightens the hold on the basket and walks, determined to find Rosie. Narcisse trots closer and closer to her, “I saw your horse run off, something must’ve spooked her.”

 

 _Or someone_. She mentally supplies. Lola was in no mood for games and she had no patience for his inconvenient flattery. 「Rosie! 」she calls again.

 

“She is long gone, I am afraid,” says Narcisse, though he doesn’t sound the least bit sorry. “And it’s a long ways back to the castle. You never know what you might come upon in these woods – other folk… or wolves.”

 

“You’re the wolf,” she finally snaps, breaking her own oath to ignore him. Narcisse smiles at her response, clearly pleased to be able to goad her but quickly frowns at how she hastily marches away from him.

 

It was foolish to think she could dismiss him so easily when Narcisse brings his destrier to block her path. “If I have offended my lady, forgive me. I had thought we last parted on… more pleasant terms.”

 

Lola flushes unwittingly at the memory of their kiss. Her heartbeat is like war drums in her ears. Unprepared, her mind supplies her with every touch, every smile, every compliment Narcisse had sent her way. All the while she’s screaming, _he threatened my son. He threatened my son_.

 

 _He threatened my son_.

 

And suddenly a day seemed like a week, a month, an eternity of thinking over and over again how dangerous Narcisse is despite how delighted he makes her feel, how exhilarated she is by him.

 

_So you’re the strong one?_

 

Aren’t I?

 

“Lady Lola,” Narcisse’s voice pierces through her thoughts, the concern in it gaining her attention. She follows the direction of his gaze and gasps when seeing the wetness at her breast. Embarrassment fills her whole being, and she stumblingly pulls on her cloak to cover herself. Lola almost loses the basket in the attempt. Narcisse must’ve understood her discomfort as he turns sincere. “I apologize for Rosie, I’ll have my men search for her. Meanwhile, allow me to bring you back to the castle.”

 

The idea of riding with him didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. She presses nervously at the coldness of bodice, knowing the discomfort it will be to not only walk the return journey but in the growing dark and chill.

 

“Please,” he adds, gently. “I have nothing but the best intentions.”

 

Then did it have to be said? “I sincerely doubt that,” she answers wryly, but nods her consent. Jean-Philippe will not be happy if left starving for an exhausted and bone-dry mother.

 

Narcisse fights his own grin, dismounting to help her climb his destrier, Eloy. He quirks a brow at the way she is sitting. “Unfortunately, my saddle does not accommodate for a woman’s modesty. The ride will be very uncomfortable that way, my lady.”

 

He was right. The horse was not yet moving and she could already feel the tension in her muscles. Flushing again, she hesitantly swings one leg over to properly straddle the beast beneath her, all the while very aware of Narcisse’s steady hand at her hip. Will there be no end to her misery?

 

After handing her the basket, he settles himself at her back and she is sure her neck is turning red at the feel of him so close – closer than their tea-time archery. Lola forces herself to think of Jean-Philippe, and that this man was his would-be murderer. _My baby_. She shifts forward against the pommel as much as she can, ignoring his front pressed to her back.

 

“You needn’t be shy, you know – I have seen you in the bath,” he teases, seemingly forgetting her poor mood.

 

Lola presses her eyes shut and prays.

 

 

 

++

 

 

 

She is greeted by her maidservant as they arrive back at the royal stables.

 

「My lady, the Queen Mary must needs see you at once. 」she informs Lola as Narcisse helps her slip down from Eloy.

 

「Is it urgent? I have a need to change. 」

 

「The Queen Mary only said to come as soon as possible. 」Canne responds, eyeing Narcisse’s curious looks between them.

 

“Rosie ran off and Lord Narcisse was good enough to see me back,” Lola explains. In desperation to divert Canne’s attentions from them, she sends her off. 「I will see to the queen. Please take these herbs and prepare a tea for me. Remove the stems, if you could. How is Jean-Philippe? 」

 

「Fussy, he’s not taking to the goats milk. 」says Canne, apologetically.

 

「That’s only expected. Thank you, Canne. 」Lola dismisses her. The lady pull her cloak tightly across her torso to make her way discreetly to her chambers without much notice. Narcisse words stops her from leaving quite yet.

 

“I had never heard you speak the language of the Scotlands before. Quite a fascinating sound to it,” he says. Lola is more certain of his fascination with what he could not understand. He leans in so as to not be overheard by the bustling stable boys around them. “If you're worried to be seen with me, our meetings could always be much more… clandestine.”

 

 _Like thieves in the night, guilty adulterers_ , Lola muses.

 

“Eloys looks quite parched,” she gestures to the brown stallion. It was the same horse that served Narcisse in Henry’s crusade only a year before. He spoke of it fondly and Lola notes the lines where its fur failed to grow through the scar. “He deserves a reward. I am most grateful to him for bringing me back.”

 

With a final look to Lord Narcisse, she grips the opening of her cloak shut and takes her leave.

 

She misses Narcisse’s amused eyes following her until she’s out of sight.

 

 

 

++

 

 

 

“Enter.”

 

Lola pushes her way through the door to find Mary sitting at her desk, penning some letter. 「Your Grace, 」Lola curtsies.

 

「The door, please. 」Mary comes around to sit by the fire, gesturing Lola to join her. 「I couldn’t find you earlier, where were you? 」

 

「Out collecting some fennel. I’m hoping it will help me with Jean-Philippe. 」Mary averts her eyes nodding and Lola knows the queen did not truly care where she was. 「What is it, Mary? 」

 

The Queen of Scots sits transfixed by the firelight for a pregnant moment. Finally with a heavy breath, Mary says, 「Francis has told me everything. 」

 

It was now Lola’s turn to utter a sigh – of relief. She takes Mary’s hand in hers, imagining how Mary must have been feeling. 「Thank heavens! I told him it was foolish to keep such a profound secret from you. 」

 

「Lola, 」Mary’s gaze holds her own and Lola chastises herself for not having picked up the waves of resentment coming off of her oldest friend. 「He’s told me _everything_. 」

 

 _Everything_. _Her own knowledge. Her liaisons with Narcisse._

 

The former lady of Douglas lets Mary loosen her hands from hers, moving to stand with her back to her. Though Mary was only a few feet away, Lola felt as though the English channel may have been between them. Could their recently mended relationship be broken so easily once more? Lola felt the tightening in her chest, the palms of her hands moist.

 

「Mary, when Narcisse first approached me, I had no idea. 」Lola pleads for Mary to look at her. 「In truth, _he_ was the one to tell me what Francis had done. I wanted to tell you so desperately. 」

 

「Why didn’t you?  」she only hears the question, wondering if Mary had even spoke it. The firelight illuminated her queen’s beautiful long hair.

 

「It was not my secret to tell, 」Lola admits.

 

「But it was Narcisse’s? 」Mary snaps, turning. 「You knew from the start that Narcisse was a dangerous man, an _evil_ man. And yet you fell into his arms! 」

 

She was taken aback by the accusation, 「I did no such thing! I don’t know what Francis has told you but – 」

 

「He didn’t have to. The fact that you kept your dalliance with Narcisse from me says plenty enough. Lola, this man is _blackmailing_ Francis, my husband! Along with the Queen Mother and myself. What good is there in a man so audacious? 」Lola knows the facts, has repeated them to herself over and over. It did not help to have Mary’s hurt and resentful eyes on her now. 「He claims to be a patriot but his actions have ripped the country in half! And you’re _helping_ him. 」

 

「I am not. 」Lola says with as much finality as she can muster, gripping the edge of the settee with trembling fingers.

 

「You’re _entertaining_ him, then. 」And she almost couldn’t bear how that crushed her even more. 「Yet this could save us, still. 」

 

Lola looks up, teary and surprised. 「What? 」

 

「Francis told me his plan to have you hide the cipher, the one Catherine and I found on Gifford. 」Mary says, sitting down again.

 

「Yes, I told Francis I wasn’t able to hide it. 」Lola numbly recalls.

 

Mary tilts her head, 「But we both know better. Don’t we? When you’re charged with something, you get it done. You were always the most reliable of my ladies. 」Lola swallows the lump in her throat, dreading what Mary was to ask of her next. 「Where did you hide it, Lola? 」

 

She stares into Mary’s eyes, those eyes that urged her not to disappoint her again. Lola had tried again and again not to disappoint, from her attempted abortion to marrying Lord Julien to trying to escape to the Netherlands. Her family had deserted her, and Francis a stranger – how could she bear to disappoint her friends?

 

「Behind a painting in his sitting room, 」Lola finally says, the significance of her admission weighing only on her.

 

「Did he suspect? 」Mary asks, excited at this revelation.

 

Lola fiddles with the skirt of her dress. 「If he does, he has not mentioned it. 」

 

「Good, 」the queen presses a hand to her stomach. 「There is hope still. 」She takes Lola’s hand, but Lola makes no move to reciprocate, the bitter taste of her tears still prominent on her tongue. 「Thank you, Lola. You understand this needs to be done? To save France and my relationship with Francis. 」

 

Lola nods, defeated. She had hoped to keep the cipher a secret, a tool for her own means. One more guarantee against Narcisse.

 

「You also understand what I must do, 」Mary continues, and Lola throws her a questioning look. 「I must needs ask that you remain in your chambers. 」

 

「You’re incarcerating me! 」Lola exclaims, unable to keep the hysteria out of her voice. 「Mary! 」

 

「Only until this business with Narcisse is settled. Once we locate the cipher and arrest him, I’ll have you freed! 」

 

「Mary, please. I’m not going to run off and warn him! _I_ planted it myself. Please trust me! 」Lola tries to reason. Her thoughts turn to Jean-Philippe, surely they wouldn’t keep him from her.

 

Her queen only turns sad eyes on her, 「Let us not speak of trust. 」And there it was. The lie Lola had naively thought to be true these past few weeks. She was foolish to think Mary would forgive her so easily. They were Scots, driven by their hearts and their passions and sustained by their deepest, most bitter grudges.

 

 _Perhaps our friendship had never mended at all_.


	3. keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key notes: Facts in Reign seem to be constantly changing, a lot of canon info I get from googling. Before I had Jean-Philippe as the Baron of Dalian, he is now the Baron of Vallie and I have since edited previous chapters to that effect.  
> I also hear 2x09 fucking _sucks_ , so this is DEFINITELY canon divergence from that whole mess.  
> I love Lola and I love Lola and Mary's friendship and I try to keep them true to form, because in my heart, I really just want them to dump Francis and run away with each other. But for the sake of the fic, I am super heterosexual and I super ship Lola/Narcisse. Yoooo.
> 
> Once again language indicators for your reference:  
> "French".  
> 「Scottish Gaelic. 」

Mary had been true to her word – almost. Lola was kept under lock and key for two days, the only coming and going visitor was Canne who brought her food, emptied her chamber pot, and helped her care for Jean-Philippe. She had wanted to see Kenna and Greer at the very least, wondering if Mary had barred them from her as well.

 

For the past ten months, Lola had been fearing this very situation – that she lost all her rights to do as she wished. Her cage had been invisible until now and it was humbling to think that not so long ago, she had hoped to find love, get married, have a family. Now her greatest wish was to be able to live a simple life, alone with her son in a cottage somewhere – somewhere in Scotland ideally. Close to Douglas, if she could manage it. _Love and happiness_ , she hums. _What a silly girl you were_.

 

Sillier still to think that there was ever a chance of leaving French court once the king had claimed her son, named him Baron of Vallie, and tied her life to this foreign place. _The King’s Mistress_ , a title many women would be vying for, empty as it may be given how much Francis loved his queen. Lola had taken Kenna’s advice to heart – starting with reacquiring her dowry from Lord Julien’s father, with a bit of help from Narcisse. Despite her initial suspicions of the devious lord, she had owed him for his … kindness. Thanks to him, the equivalent to her dowry in gold and silver pieces were hidden safely in a chest locked away at her bedside, the key on her body at all times.

 

 _Start building a nest-egg. Ask for more expensive jewelry_.

 

The idea was ludicrous at first, petty, but there was wisdom in Kenna’s words. However unfounded her title was as Francis’s mistress, she had to make the most of it. A number of ladies of eager lords had already gifted her with necklaces and gems – and Lola did her best to put on her most gracious face, fawning over the beauty of baubles. Not so long ago, it would not have been an act.

 

 _Not so long ago, I was still a child_.

 

To think having one of your own could help you see how foolish you were before. Though being trapped in her quarters made her no less anxious about what was going on outside, she was able to focus her energies on Jean-Philippe. The fennel had helped, she thinks, with some massaging of the breast as the court physician advised her of. Jean-Philippe became more sprightly, having been properly fed but Lola took care to tease him with goats milk here and there. He could not rely on her forever, to her sadness.

 

Greer sent along a book, a dull read if she were honest, but it passed the time just as well. Lola would find her mind wandering from the words on the pages, to wonder of what was happening with Mary and Francis. What of Narcisse? When did they search his estate? Did they find the cipher? Was he just as imprisoned as she was? Or had they already beheaded him for treason? The idea of Narcisse dead sent her head whirling, the image of his headless corpse made her nauseous.

 

Lola hadn’t realized how attached she had grown to him – for all her protesting, for all her reasoning, for all the hammering of her own feelings. Narcisse had been her chance to build some sort of stability in this permanent life of hers, and she had spoiled it. He was dead, along with everything she hoped to gain from his acquaintance, his friendship…

His courtship.

 

Her thoughts are disrupted by a guard announcing the arrival of Queen Mary. The man quickly excused himself and the door closed behind Mary, dressed in a regal black and gold gown. Aylee had jokingly dubbed it Mary’s battle gown, Lola remembers fondly.

 

「Your Grace, 」Lola curtsies.

 

「Lola, 」Mary greets, folding her hands together. 「I’ve come to release you. Thank you, for bearing this. I know it can’t have been easy. 」Lola nods, unable will herself to polite conversation as Mary had been trained to all her life.

 

_She has always been a Queen first, and a friend second. You always knew._

 

But her burning desire to know of Narcisse, to hear it for herself, elicited her from silence.

 

「Is it done? Is he … 」 The word is stuck in her throat, so scared of the finality of it.

 

At this, Mary fiddles with her hands, looking away. _He’s dead_ , Lola thinks, her stomach dropping through the floor and her legs give way from underneath her. Why did she think this would end in any other way?

 

Her queen shakes her head, sympathetically. 「Narcisse is still alive.  Francis ordered his manor to be searched early yesterday. Bash found nothing, taking care to search behind every nook and cranny of his sitting room. 」

 

Lola darts her eyes back and forth, confused. How could that be? 「Mary, I swear I left it there. 」

 

「I know, 」Mary nods, eyes understanding. 「I believe you. If only because Narcisse is a cunning man, very possible to have found it long before he suspected we were coming. But Lola, 」and before she knew it, her queen was on her knees in front of her, strong hands clutching at hers.

 

「Your Grace! 」she shouts, 「You mustn’t! 」

 

「I must, 」Mary says, her grip on Lola’s fingers so tight she could see the veins against her queen’s knuckles. 「Because I am _begging_ you. Stay away from that man. He’s been wounded, yes. All the other lords are whispering about his alleged treachery. There is no evidence, but it did enough to convince him to keep his head down for now. But because of this, he must _know_ that it was _you_ , Lola. 」

 

She had no time to process the actuality that Lord Narcisse was still alive, until it dawned on her what it meant for her own safety, for her son’s.

 

_Did she throw her son to the wolf after all?_

 

「You are no longer my subject since I had released you from service, 」Mary pleads. 「I cannot order you as your queen, but please do this for yourself – for dear, little Jean-Philippe. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. 」

 

Mary Queen of Scots was only befuddled at her former lady’s sudden laughter, tearful as it may be. It was still some moments before Lola could calm herself, not believing that this mess could get any worse. 「What was it that Greer said? 」she hastily wipes away her tears before gently cupping Mary’s face in her hands. 「‘Look at where our hearts have led us.’? 」

 

「I would rather be your subject than Francis’s mistress, trust me on that. 」Lola declares, and Mary smile is warm and genuine and altogether regretful. 「But I will do as you wish. 」

 

「Thank you, Lola. 」Mary embraces her oldest friend. 「I’ll assign guards to you – for protection this time, 」she gives a wry grin. 「Not as your jailers. 」

 

Yes, Mary had always been true to her word. And Lola knew it to be true in her heart that she could never hate Mary as she knew it to be true that Mary could never willingly see Lola come to harm.

 

She was like a moth to a flame…

 

 

++

 

 

 

「How odd to think you have your own guards following you around. 」Kenna comments, eyeing the two armored men a distance away. 「We knew French court was dangerous, but how many times has it been proven to be so literal? 」

 

Lola sighs, but she couldn’t help her lips quirking at Kenna’s humor. 「They aren’t my guards, they’re Mary’s. And trust me, it’s _very odd_ to have men follow you around wherever you go. 」

 

「Aylee would be rolling her grave if she knew that our prude, safe Lola had a known conspirator and killer coming after her. 」Kenna adds a ‘I’m only joking!’ at Lola’s horrified look. They sat on a bench in a quiet courtyard. Lola consciously avoided crowded gathering places and any formal dinners. Kenna had informed her that Lord Narcisse hasn’t been seen at court since his unfortunate release.

 

「I haven’t seen Greer around? 」Lola inquired. The Missus The King’s Deputy rolled her eyes at that.

 

「Lady Castleroy’s escaped to her manor. She says she needed to be with her husband in such dire times. 」

 

To hear that only worried Lola, 「Is it the fighting? Has it been terribly bad? 」

 

Kenna nods, looking very disheartened which Lola did not expect. 「It’s gotten worse, unfortunately. Riots and brawls. The cardinal has issued an inquisition thanks to the edict Narcisse forced Francis to sign and even though Narcisse is temporarily out of the picture, the cardinal isn’t backing down in the least. Sometimes it feels like I haven’t seen Bash in days. 」Lola nods, understanding now and peered at her friend with fondness and envy for loving that husband of hers. Bash was a good man and Kenna had a kind heart, and though done in madness, their forced union is one of the few good decisions King Henry had left to his legacy.

 

「Mary wants to take advantage of Narcisse’s absence, though. 」Kenna continues. It truly was amazing how much gossip the lady managed to dig up. 「She wants to marry Princess Claude to Prince Condé to try and build a bridge between Catholics and Protestants. 」

 

Lola’s brow furrowed, perplexed. 「They are both Catholic. 」

 

Kenna waved a finger, silently berating her for not keeping up with the rumors. 「It seems that, to protest the edict, Condé professed himself a Protestant and astonishingly many other lords of the court did as well. So not only are the common folk divided in two, so are the royals. 」

 

_Louis Condé, the Prince of the Blood, is a Protestant._

 

And then, her heart leaped in her chest. The key to it all. This was the solution.

 

「Kenna! You darling bunting! 」Lola exclaims, pulling the other woman into a hug.

 

The Lady de Poitiers was only baffled, returning the embrace with uncertainty. 「You haven’t called me that since we were children! What is it? 」

 

She held Kenna at arms length, doing her best to keep her voice low from unwelcome ears.

 

「I can fix this. 」

 

 _She just hopes her instincts were right_.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be COMPLETELY dedicated to my version of how Lola and Narcisse were supposed to confront each other and I am STOKED.


	4. when did you turn so cold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lola and Narcisse's confrontation. Takes into account their argument in 2x08 Terror of the Faithful and expands from there.
> 
> Language indicators. 
> 
> "French."  
> 「Scottish Gaelic.」
> 
> Thank you to all the consistent readers and all the feedback. I appreciate your continued interest and your kind words!

Two weeks pass and there is no talk of Lord Narcisse at court. Many speculate that he has retreated to his country manor, a few hundred leagues south of Paris. Lola was more than content if he stayed there forever. The farther he was from her son, the better she rested. Even Mary seemed comfortable enough now that she consented to Lola’s request to dismiss the guards.

 

「But the minute Narcisse returns, you’ll have them once more. 」Mary warns, driven only by worry for her oldest friend.

 

Lola nods obediently, but not without some cheek, 「Yes, I’ve gotten to know Mathieu and Denis quite well. 」

 

Slowly she starts surrounding herself with court life again, and once more reminding herself how ill-fitted she was for it. She did not miss the looks nor whispers. Lola did not think her short absence would be noted, but clearly many were curious. _What caused Francis to hide away his mistress so?_   Lola better liked the rumors of dispute between she and Francis than that of relations of the amorous sort. They would hurt her queen less.

 

During her reclusion from the rest of court, Lola ended up refusing several invitations to tea from Lady Bertrand. She was an older woman, but still a decade younger than her lord husband. Though many other ladies had sent inquiries, Lady Bertrand’s was most frequent and even Canne seemed irked to have to turn away the lady’s maidservant time and time again on Lola’s behalf.

 

「Another invitation, my lady. 」Canne presents Lola the short note at her vanity.

 

「Truly?  」Lola unravels it, frowning. While Lady Bertrand was amiable, she and Lola were nothing more than polite to each other. She could recall the number of times she and the lady had spoken on one hand. Though with Mary’s continued inability to conceive, many of the ladies and lords grew more anxious and placed Lola under more scrutiny. It would not surprise Lola to find Lady Bertrand’s newly ignited interest in her to be for those reasons.

 

Canne also came forth with another, 「Lady Poisson also invites you to view the gardens and enjoy a game of tennis. 」Admittedly, Lola was much more intrigued by the invitation by Lady Poisson, but she knew very little of the lady and had little confidence in her skill at tennis. Surely it is getting much too cold for such a sport? She, Mary, and the girls tried their hands at it here and there when first arriving at French court, but they always wound up giggling to themselves on the grass.

 

「To think I used to be so eager for such invitations, 」Lola sighs. 「Please visit Lady Bertrand and tell her that I will meet her for tea, at her convenience. I couldn’t so rude as to deny her given the number of times she has called on me. I will write to Lady Poisson to ask for her company another day. 」

 

Her maidservant curtsies her retreat and Lola tries to remember to present Canne with a special gift come the celebration of St. Nicholas. The girl had been steadfast by her side and obedient, whatever troubled or frenzied state her lady has been in.

 

When will it end? Lola wonders.

 

 

 

++

 

 

Lady Lola is sure her meeting with Lady Bertrand would follow the same routine of polite conversation about the latest fashions, their favorite foods, what they expect the upcoming Feast of St. Nicholas would hold. She almost requested for Kenna to come along, as the other Scot was much better at such conversations and much better with strangers for company.

 

“Lady Lola, I was so eager for your arrival,” Lady Bertrand greeted, calling her servants to set out a platter of cheese and fruits for her guest. The older woman was only a few years younger than Queen Catherine, if Lola guessed, but she already had grey hairs peppering her otherwise dark curls. “Finally a moment to sit and talk with one another.”

 

“I apologize for not having been able to these past few weeks,” says Lola, thanking the maid as her glass was filled with wine. “My baby had need of me.” It was not a lie, but Lady Bertrand’s smile was suspicious all the same.

 

“I wish your son good health,” Bertrand says, holding up her glass. “You’ve ensured that France has at least one heir.” Lola keeps her smile tight, but took a long sip.

 

Bertrand then signals to someone behind Lola, another servant she supposes, “In truth, I’ve asked you here for a specific reason. And that reason does not require my presence.”

 

Lola straightens her back, confused. “What do you mean, exactly?”

 

Lady Bertrand’s look is regretful, and it is only when she hears a different voice that she understands.

 

“She means that you were not called here simply to have tea,” Narcisse appears then, leaning against Bertrand’s bedpost. Lola jumps to her feet, bracing a hand to her heart. Meanwhile Bertrand and her servants removed themselves from the room. He was dressed as sharp as ever in a golden doublet, contrasted by his sash embroidered with the coats of his house, and his sword nestled comfortably at his side. He looked too well put together, as though being accused of treason and losing the confidence of his fellow lords did not thwart him in the slightest. “Lady Bertrand and her husband are dear friends of mine,” Narcisse explains. Though she is unsure of the way he says the word _friends_. “They do as I ask and I keep them… satisfied.”

 

She runs a hand behind her across the table, hoping to feel for something sharp.

 

“I did not hear from you about my offer,” says Narcisse, eyes focused on her. “Though attempting to frame me for _treason_ should be answer enough, I suppose.”

 

“When did you know?” She had been overconfident, and she knew it the moment Mary had told her of the failed raid. It’s clear to her now that her time with him – her games with him – had dulled her estimation of Narcisse.

 

His eyes wandered around the room, recalling the events before. “I found that little item soon after you visited, hanging so delicately behind my painting.”

 

“Before or after you decided to tell me ‘the truth’? So that we could ‘trust each other’?” she challenged. Lola wanted answers. Was this all a game?

 

“Before,” he replies honestly. “But that did not influence what I had originally intended. And when the King’s Guard didn’t immediately arrive… well, I thought you had a change of heart. That we were at an understanding, at least I had hoped.”

 

His forwardness evoked her own truths. “I did,” admits Lola. “But…” _But you are blackmailing my king and queen. You threatened my son_.

 

“But what?” Lola is unsettled under his piercing gaze, steady as he walked towards her. “It saddens me that you chose Francis – a weak, patricidal King – over the future we might have shared.” She pulls away from his outreached hand meant to brush her face. She could not bear the thought of his touch now when she previously yearned for it. Lola schools her face to not react when she sees his disappointed – hurt? – look in response to her obvious rejection.

 

 _It saddens me that you chose Francis…_  

 

Chose? How could she choose? What few decisions she made were with a forced hand. She would _choose_ to leave this godforsaken place. She would _choose_ to never set foot in France again. She would _choose_ a simpler life for her son.

 

When your son was currently the only heir to France and his father’s rule was in jeopardy, these were not choices she could make.

 

“You told me you’re a patriot,” Lola starts. “Resorting to blackmail for the ‘good of France’. Was it also for the good of France to _threaten_ _my baby_?” She takes a bold step forward, and him a step back, surprise evident in his face. “My queen? My friends? What choice did I have but to try and stop you?”

 

“I merely warned Francis of the consequences should his line be deposed. To motivate him to be a better ruler,” the lord explains.

 

She can only shake her head, distancing herself from him to stand near the cold fireplace. “It is not a warning nor a tactic if you have the means to set those consequences into motion. It is a _promise_.”

 

“Lola,” her stomach drops at the sound of her name. Open, earnest, no formalities. “I would _never_ hurt your baby.” She turns to him, and his eyes flash from genuine to cold in seconds. “But don’t misunderstand that your child is at risk and always will be as the son of the king. And there is a target on _your_ back as well.”

 

She was well aware of the nature of her position and of her son’s. This was not news.

 

Narcisse rounded himself around her, thoughtful. “You could have used the extra safety my friendship would have offered.” Her grip went immediately to the iron poker against the stone frame of the fireplace.

 

“What safety is there when _you_ are the threat to it?” Lola spats before telling herself to keep her composure. “But for all your boasting of power, I believe you when you say you would never hurt my son.” He silently watches her, intrigued. “Not because of your compassionate heart or what regards you have for me, I am not foolish enough to believe that. But because killing my son would be unwise on your part, wouldn’t it?”

 

Narcisse’s gaze on her is heightened, and she musters the courage to continue. “Should you reveal Francis’s regicide and he hangs, who would you and your nobles rather see assume the throne? My son, a strong Catholic, or Prince Condé, a converted Protestant?”

 

A flicker in his eyes shows that Lola had hit a nerve. Good. It was time the tables had turned.

 

“Francis’s death only strengthens my son’s claim,” she reiterates this fact. “And my position.”

 

“I would be doing you a favor by killing Francis?” Narcisse questions.

 

“Yes,” Lola answers, and the man in front of her raises a brow in curiosity. “If the legitimacy of my son and rise in position were my goals, it would be all too easy.” She swings the poker up to casually lean against her shoulder. His lips quirk at her small display of power. “But this not what I want. I would rather myself hang than to see Mary be executed with Francis. And, we both know that is not what _you_ want either.”

 

“I only want what is best for France,” he repeats.

 

Lola allows a small chuckle, an attempt to unnerve him further. “Surely singing the same song again and again must get old even to your ears.” She taps her shoulder lightly with the iron bar. “Is all this religious fighting for the good of France? I’m sure you thought Protestantism was a plague of the poor, surely it wouldn't reach you nobles up here. But reached you, it had. I say without the influence you had before your rumored treason, the nobles must be half Protestant by now.”

 

Narcisse’s jaw clenches.

 

“Where is your influence over them, I wonder? And your fellow Catholic lords? Are you certain of their loyalty now as well?” Lola leaves the questions unanswered. “Will they so much as blink when you are found to be guilty of treason?”

 

His eyes darken then, her grip tighter on her impromptu weapon. “What other treason is this?”

 

“Did you think me naïve enough to hide my leverage behind something as simple as a painting?” Lola keeps her voice as even as possible. “How quickly was it to find it? I imagine you burned it?”

 

Narcisse’s lack of response is answer enough. “How many are there?”

 

“Enough that I have confidence that you will _never_ threaten my son again.”

 

“That won’t stop me from exposing Francis,” he takes a step towards her, hand on his sword. His uncertainty betrays his confidence, and this time Lola feels what it’s like to have the upper hand.

 

“Then both your heads can enjoy each other’s company when hanging over the castle ramparts.”

 

Lord Narcisse eyes her down, and she straightens her back in resolve. “You don’t have what it takes.”

 

“You of all people should understand the lengths we would go to protect our sons,” Lola says, and she believes it’s enough – _just enough_ – to convince Narcisse of her bluff. When his silence persuades her of her success, she throws the poker to the floor, satisfied of the reverberating clang it makes. A booming end to their discourse. “Please give my thanks to Lady Bertrand, and my regret that I will not be having tea with her again.”

 

Her hand is on the door before Narcisse speaks.

 

“I will find them all.” _And you will regret this_ , was the silent threat. She turns to meet his eyes, confident that her face gave no indication of her beating heart.

 

“You will try.”


	5. perfect storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to keyboard smash this story out before I leave the country for a month. Events of this chapter theoretically takes place between 2x08 and 2x09. Reign Wiki says Frederick is Lola's older brother. I call shenanigans because he clearly acts like he's the younger. So in my fic, he's younger and she's the oldest (only) girl.
> 
> "French."  
> 「Scottish Gaelic. 」

Lola does not tell Mary of her encounter with Narcisse. It is all for naught, however, as Narcisse makes a presence at court the following day and Mary immediately assigns Mathieu and Denis to her again.

 

「If he does anything at all, you will tell me? 」Mary pleads. Lola nods, more to put her friend at ease than an agreement to her request. If she were honest, Lola felt as though Narcisse wouldn’t dare try to hurt her. Or her baby. She genuinely believed that. And she had planted the idea that she had leverage against him to dissuade the lord of such thoughts.

 

But she mustn’t get too comfortable with being confident about Narcisse. It was clear that Lord Narcisse did not take well to being blackmailed himself and he was known to pull scenarios out of thin air. It is impossible to predict what theatrical production he might present next.

 

But as long as Prince Condé was still Protestant, and an increasingly popular one at that, Jean-Philippe was safe. Narcisse himself had inadvertently guaranteed that with his pushing of the edict, with the outcry from the Protestants, and Condé’s more frequent diplomacy. Despite Mary and Francis’s activeness in quelling the animosity between Protestants and Catholics, Cardinal Cointerel continues to be a divisive force. It was clear the Cardinal meant to stay.

 

She and Kenna and Greer were enjoying a private dance lesson in the ballroom, only it consists more of them giggling and stepping over each other and the instructor growing increasingly more impatient. They had hoped Mary would be able to join them, but she had so much on her plate actually organizing all the festivities for the Feast.

 

“A break, a break,” the dance master announces, more for his sake than theirs. Greer makes a face that causes Lola to snort under her breath and she feigns a cough that needs remedying with a drink.

 

「Why, here comes a familiar stranger, 」Kenna announces, and Lola peers at the newcomer over the lip of her glass. The combination of the bite of the wine and the sight of her brother makes her wince.

 

「Freddie! 」she exclaims, watching as Kenna and Greer both give him friendly hugs. 「What are you doing here? 」The question comes out more critical than she meant it to, given the nature of their last meeting. Out of the corner of her eye, Kenna waves off Mathieu and Denis marching towards them after having spotted the Scottish lord.

 

The look Frederick gives her is one of mock-hurt, 「Can’t I visit my dear sister? 」

 

「No, because your visits usually require money – and usually from me, 」Lola scolds, feeling herself more angry at her little brother than usual. She did not have money to get him out of whatever mess he had gotten himself in anymore. The family had cut her off. She could not save him anymore, and after the events following his last escapade, she isn’t sure she would want to.

 

Greer notices the tension in the air, 「How about we leave you two to catch up, hmm? 」With that, she leads Kenna away who throws Lola a look that says she would rather have stayed to enjoy the inevitable fight.

 

Knowing she doesn’t want to make a spectacle for the musicians, she leads her brother out into the hall with only the risk of a passing servant witnessing them.

 

「Well? 」Lola crosses her arms instinctively.

 

Frederick mimicks her stance, 「Well what? I’ve come to visit, honestly. And to see my little nephew. 」She takes a deep breath, the nails of her thumb and forefinger scratching at each other.

 

「Really? No debts? No collectors coming to take your hands off? 」Her little brother had a history not lightly forgotten.

 

「Debts I’ve got, but they can wait, 」Frederick grasps her by the shoulders to keep her from launching at him. 「I’m only joking! 」But only he was laughing.

 

He pulls her towards the bright windows, urging her to sit with him. 「You needn’t worry about me, sister. 」Frederick tries to assure her. And despite the conflicting feelings she had regarding their last encounter, she couldn’t help but worry about her little brother. He was the only brother she had left. Well…

 

Lola swallows hard, toying with the questions she wanted to ask. Unsure if she would like the answer. 「Does Father know you’re here? 」

 

「Aye, he does. 」

 

「He allowed you to come here? 」her disbelief is short-lived when he shakes his head.

 

「I should’ve dared him to try and stop me, y’ken. 」Frederick says stubbornly, and Lola sighs.  「I couldn’t bear the way whispered about you at home. 」

 

Lola slumps then, her mood darkening as it always did when thinking of home. 「They’re right to. I’ve shamed the family. 」

 

「No more than I have! 」exclaims her brother. 「You were always the best one, Lola. You ken that. Were you a son instead, Father would finally have an heir to be proud of. 」

 

「But I’m not, 」Lola both reminds him and to keep herself from thinking it could change. 「You’re the only one left. You’ve got to be more responsible – by not getting yourself into debts and running off to France any time you like! 」

 

Frederick nods, submitting to her reprimands. 「I’ll catch a ship back once the holiday is over. I promise. 」He slips a hand into hers. 「He still talks about you, y’ken. Father. Until Mother hears and puts an end to it. 」

 

She isn’t able to keep her tears at bay, surprising herself at how happy the thought made her. To know that her Father loved her still. 「Thank you, 」she manages, placing a gentle hand at Freddie’s cheek and brushing it tenderly. 「It’s such a relief to hear that. I miss them dearly. 」

 

「And they miss you, truly. Even Mother, in her own way. 」He says, 「Let us speak of happier things. Where is my nephew you’ve been keeping secret all this time? 」

 

Lola laughs, wiping away her tears. 「He is likely with his nanny. But you shan’t see him yet, not without me there. And I’ve still got the dance lesson for a while yet. 」

 

「Forget all this dancing nonsense, you were always rubbish at it anyways. 」Lola slaps his shoulder, indignant but she is giggling all the same. For a moment she forgets that they are older now, that he is the heir to their house and not the boy who was always chasing after her. And she was not the girl who always stumbled over her skirts but a king’s mistress, mother to his only son.

 

「You ought to go settle in and then go pay your respects to Mary. She hasn’t seen you in longer than I have, she’ll barely recognize you – especially with this, 」Lola pats at his full beard. 「You’ll see Jean-Philippe soon enough. 」

 

Frederick makes a face at the name and Lola tries her best to not show that she agrees, only shoos him away as though they were still the children she reminisces about.

 

Her persistent grin only falls when she turns to return to the ballroom, and sees Narcisse standing at the other end of the hallway, having watched their conversation from afar. Though she knows he understood none of it, she schools her face into an expression of indifference.

 

Lola gives him only the faintest of nods, an acknowledgement, before slipping into the room.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

“Lady Lola,” Mathieu bows. “Lord Frederick.”

 

“Yes, let him in,” she says adjusting her dress one last time before the Feast. When Frederick appears, she is envious of his Scottish colors, the cloth tied across his chest bearing the coat of their house. Well, his house. The formal wear of the Scots was a marvelous thing, in her opinion and she missed seeing it. Her brother was certainly a welcome sight in all the French humdrum.

 

「Lola, 」her brother starts. 「Why is it that you have guards with you? Is it so dangerous for the king’s mistress? 」Lola wishes he wouldn’t refer to her as such. To think he thought of her like that… But she couldn’t very well tell him of her trials these past few weeks: with Narcisse, Mary, even Francis. It was too much.

 

She leans down to swaddle Jean-Philippe and takes him into her arms gently. The boy had been gumming at one of his toys in the crib. 「It’s been dangerous here in general, 」she answers. 「It seems Protestantism is a very real threat here now. 」

 

「Now I wouldn’t call it a threat, 」says Frederick, coming closer to see his nephew. 「It’s a change for the better, and we should embrace it. Like Scotland has. 」

 

Lola stops then, staring down her brother. 「What are you saying, Freddie? 」

 

He looks confused at her question, and finally nods understanding. 「Ah, you see… I am Protestant. I’ve converted. 」

 

A small gasp behind her alerts her that Canne is bustling in the room. 「Canne, you will speak of none of this. 」When she is assured that her maidservant will keep her silence, she turns on Frederick. 「So this is it. This is why you’re here. To tell me that you are _Protestant_? 」

 

No, no, no. She knew Scotland was officially a Protestant nation, but she never could’ve imagined that her family could’ve been affected.

 

「What about Mother and Father? Have they converted? 」Lola asks, fearing the worst.

 

「No, only me. 」he answers and Lola lets out an audible sigh of relief.

 

「Freddie, you are not Protestant. 」Lola says with a finality to her voice. Her grip on Jean-Philippe is tight and she had moved him away from his uncle.

 

Frederick’s brows furrowed, angry at her dismissal. 「I _am_ Protestant! 」

 

Lola hisses, 「Keep your voice down! Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ it is right now? Protestants here are fighting tooth and nail for their rights -- 」

 

「As they should. 」

 

「And Catholics do not give up power easily! Frederick, please! Protestants are being murdered in the streets. It is not safe to proclaim yourself as such here. My God, Frederick, there is an _edict!_ While you are in France, you are _Catholic_. While you are at court, you are _Catholic_. 」Lola holds his gaze, urging him to listen to her. 「This is the only way I know how to protect you. 」

 

Her brother is silent for a moment but eventually nods his consent. 「I will not take mass. 」

 

「Then feign an illness that keeps you in bed. And do it well! 」she snaps, and Jean-Philippe must have sensed her irritation as he begins to wail. 「Oh no, no, no. It’s all right. Shhh, 」she tries to hush him.

 

Frederick places a tentative hand on her son’s head, drawing the boy’s attention. 「Now don’t be so fussy for your mum. She doesn’t deserve that now. Be a good boy. 」

 

Lola is grateful when Jean-Philippe actually does calm, occupying himself by catching Frederick’s playful fingers. As she watches her brother and her son share a moment, she worries over Frederick’s secret and what Narcisse would do should he find out.


	6. a fire left in me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with this story's update. Went on a long vacation back to the home country and have felt really out of odds with myself upon coming back. So after working through that and forcing myself into feeling feelings for the ship again, I managed to get this chapter up. Don't know where the show thinks its going but it's probably no where good.
> 
> Language indicators:  
> 「Scottish gaelic, 」  
> "French,"

Saint Nicholas’s Feast is a bustle of joy and merriment, not a single decoration out of place. Whatever the politics, the royal castle could always throw together a wonderful party and when they are stuck in a long winter, these festivities are nearly the only thing keeping the noble houses sane. Frederick’s confession has left her on edge but she is grateful that he poses as a distraction to lords and ladies alike normally inquiring into the Baron or her relationship with King Francis. She had missed the little anonymity she had before, only as one of Mary’s ladies – one among many, a face easily forgotten.

 

It is a wonder that a woman’s status is so easily dictated by a man.

 

Her brother’s constant companionship that evening had helped her convince Mary to relieve Mathieu and Denis, who should be allowed to enjoy Saint Nicholas’s Feast as much as anyone. An overly heavy presence of guards did little to help the cheer, besides.

 

「Lola, 」 Mary approaches them, dressed from head to toe in such splendor. She would be a sight to behold if not for the worry in her eyes. 「Have either of you seen Francis? 」

 

She can only shake her head, surprised that it is the first time that night she even noticed Francis’s absence. 「We were supposed to officially announce Prince Condé and Princess Claude’s engagement tonight, 」 Mary wrings her hands. 「I had thought I had convinced him of the match. 」

 

「Didn’t he go into the village earlier to offer them some food parcels? 」 asks Lola, 「Have you seen him since then? Perhaps he’s just caught up in it. 」

 

Mary gives her a grateful smile, but Lola knows it did little to comfort her queen. 「You’re right. I just hope it isn’t trouble he’s caught up in. Excuse me. 」

 

She watches Mary leave, heading straight towards Prince Condé. 「A strange court you have here in France, 」 Frederick comments and Lola could hardly disagree, only sips her wine. Not many can attest to a successful union between a Catholic and Protestant. A potentially beautiful ideal, politically smart, but volatile. Soon Mary is calling for everyone’s attentions and the musicians stop abruptly for the announcement. After having ushered the prince and princess together, Mary explains the good news and the hall erupts in applause – some with excitement but most were simply polite.

 

Lola watches as some well-known Catholic lords began whispering between each other, surely discussing how this will or will not benefit their positions. Her eye catches Greer and Lord Castleroy in a corner together, looking blissful and happy. You wouldn’t know what a precarious position Greer was in by the look of her.

 

She felt incredibly envious at that moment to see Greer who only a short time before was woeful of her prospects. Even Kenna is utterly content with Bash, almost nearly forgotten as one of the former king’s mistress. How incredible it was to feel so lonely in a room full of people.

 

Her brother excuses himself to chat up a young lady, the daughter of Lord de Roux if Lola recalls correctly. She makes her way to the cushions, hoping to hide in the shadows and to give her feet some reprieve. Her path is blocked by Lord Narcisse, his presence suddenly the only thing she is aware of. Lola is cursing Freddie for his frivolousness then, and almost wished she had kept at least one of the guards by her side. She isn’t sure of his mindset since their last confrontation, but there is a certain conviction in his eye that she does not like.

 

“Might I have this dance, Lady Lola?” he is hiding behind convention and politeness and Lola does not care for his games at that moment.

 

“A kind offer, my Lord,” she answers, keeping a cool head. “But I am afraid I must decline.”

 

He nods, and she likes even less how his eyes flash. “A pity, I suppose I’ll have to occupy my time getting to know your… brother, is it? Word has it it is his first time at French court.”

 

Lola feels a dread low in her gut. She wanted nothing more than Narcisse to keep his distance from Frederick. If Maurice Bicett was willing to break fingers, Narcisse was capable of far far worse. “Actually, I am quite fond of this song. A dance would be lovely,” she says, and she hates the smug tug of his lips as he sets aside her glass of wine and leads her to the floor. She is vividly aware of every physical contact with Narcisse, burning her skin and sparking all her nerves. Her feet fall into the familiar rhythm of the dance, glad that her body can work on its own as her mind was too busy playing out every worst circumstance should Narcisse know of her brother’s secret.

 

“I assume this engagement between Condé and Princess Claude is of your doing,” he says with an icy tone. He releases her hand and she circles him, stepping lightly to the music.

 

Glad that the conversation has veered from that of Frederick, she quirks a brow at him, “I’m flattered you think I have that much influence in these affairs, but I had very little to do with it.”

 

“Mary’s idea then,” he surmises.

 

“Yes, I suppose it was _Queen_ Mary’s,” she corrects him, and he only seemed amused.

 

“Francis has no love for the Bourbons. It would be a mistake for him to allow one to marry so closely into the family line.”

 

“Funny how you seem to only care for Francis when the threat is a Protestant rule,” she retorted.

 

Narcisse throws her a look, “If I had truly wanted Francis gone, it would have been done.” He was brave, borderline audacious to speak such plain treason in the midst of so many who could hear him.

 

“Of course, but Francis is young and malleable – easily blackmailed. You could make him do as you wished, for a price. Charles and Henry are too young, and Catherine is a nightmare already without being Queen Regent,” Lola feels a surge of control when Narcisse tries to hide his pleased smile. Should she feel so proud to know him so well? It should be unnerving that he was so content that she saw through him. Or did she?

 

She flinches as Narcisse settles an out-of-place hand against her collarbone. The touch heating her to her core, her face flushing. His voice is low and husky when he says, “Still now you prove to be a formidable player.” And just like that, his hand leaves, and they side-step each other to the music. A high praise from him, and had she not lamented the girl she was and the woman had been forced to become, she would have been prideful of this.

 

“You claim that not many know you, but they know what kind of man you are and can be. Your confidence will betray you one day,” Lola warns, the dance bringing her to lean closely over his shoulder.

 

“As you have?”

 

The song ends and Lola retreats away from Narcisse, the distance like a great cavern – the air between them heavy with the recent events. She squares her shoulders and thinks of all the decisions she has made, decisions she tells herself she was forced to make, excuses she tells herself due to her love and loyalty to her friends and dear ones.

 

“Yes,” her voice is unwavering. “As I have.”

 

  
+

 

It is only when the party starts dwindling that Frederick shows up by her side again, looking satisfied and happy, delighted from whatever mischief he had occupied himself with. 「That face has never ended well for me, 」she teases, placing her book aside. She had taken to slipping a book in some nook or cranny before the start of these social affairs for moments where she is still required to be present, but had no real desire to speak with guests. Lola did not have the energies as Kenna had, nor a doting husband and family to go home with as Greer did. Even Mary had opted to retreat early, avoiding the questions of Francis’s absence throughout the night.

 

「A very lovely people, these French, 」Frederick sighs, winking at a young lady (different from earlier, Lola notices) giggling with her friends. 「Very friendly. 」

 

Lola rolls her eyes, 「Don’t get attached. You’ll be leaving soon. 」

 

「So soon? 」Frederick purses his lips, giving her his saddest look.

 

Laughing, she tugs on his ear. 「Yes, you ought to be home learning how to run the household from Father. Being a proper heir to our family. 」His hands take hold of hers when she goes to pull back.

 

「Come back with me, 」Frederick suggests. 「Or perhaps, you are so content in your position here as the king’s mistress? 」His idea left her speechless, both from the implausibility of it and how much she desperately wanted it. No, Francis is nothing to keep her in France.

 

It is Jean-Philippe.

 

「You know there is no place for me in Scotland anymore, 」she slips her hands back in her lap, picking at her fingertips.

 

Frederick leans in, seeking her eyes. 「What if I can convince them? Father, easily. You’ve been gone from home too long. The minute they see you on their doorstep, they will remember how much they love you and how much all of this nonsense doesn’t matter, 」his words genuine. 「You are a misery here, dear sister. I saw it the moment I laid eyes on you again. What do you really want? 」

 

Lola grips the edge of her seat then, unable to ward off the pangs in her chest. When was the last anyone had asked her that? All her wants and aspirations she kept in a secret box, locked away, never to be seen and never to be discussed. These were irrelevant things. Her happiness did not protect her son, her queen, her friends.

 

And curiously, Narcisse’s face enters her mind’s eye.

 

「I have made my bed, Freddie, 」a sad smile graces her lips, but a warmth bloomed knowing her little brother had such concerns for her. 「And as they say, I must lie in it. 」Her brother is disappointed by her submission, and before he can persuade her further of this truly impossible notion, she ushers him up. 「Come, escort me back to my rooms, 」she says. 「Jean-Philippe will be missing me dearly. 」

 

Frederick obliges her, offering her his arm in a show of mock chivalry. They wind their way to the nearest exit, and with only two or three brief farewells on the way out, they escape without much trouble. The hour must have been later than she thought, as even the hallways felt very empty once they distanced themselves from the main hall. Almost unsettlingly so. Something about the flicker of the torches casting shadows of things one could not possibly see sent an anxiousness through her.

 

「What is it? 」Freddie asks, sensing her unease.

 

「Many are at the festivities, but there should be some guards on patrol here at the very least, 」Lola explains. 「Take me to Jean-Phillipe, quickly. Please. 」Her voice was as harried as she felt, but Freddie bid as she asked. Their strides were quick, and one point she had slipped her arm from him to take up her skirts.

 

They heard the scuffle before they rounded the corner, and they freeze at the sight of castle guards assaulting someone. A moment of relief washed over her, assuming they had apprehended some troublemaker but on close inspection she recognized the textured doublet, the identifying sash across the man’s torso.

 

Narcisse.

 

A number of questions rushed through her mind – why were the guards assailing on him? Did Francis order this? Where was Francis? Why confront Narcisse in such an open manner for anyone in the castle to see?

 

No, nothing about this felt right.

 

「Freddie, 」her plea came out breathless, but her brother knew the look in her face. Frederick flew down to the other end of the hall, tearing one guard off of the French lord and Lola felt a dread at the thought of Freddie getting hurt. But Frederick’s intervention was enough for Narcisse to get a hold on one of the two guards that were still left on him. Lola did not dare to move closer, fearing any little help she may have offered would only hinder Narcisse or her brother. Eventually, Frederick is able to knock his guard headlong into the wall but by then the other two had gotten Narcisse to his knees.

 

“No, stop!” she cries, spotting the flash of a sword in the midst of fists and limbs. Frederick wrangles a dagger from a guard’s belt and runs him through with it. The last guard, either extremely bullheaded or running on adrenaline, keeps up his efforts against both Freddie and Narcisse until the latter finds the opportunity to stick his own dagger through the man’s throat.

 

Lola is forced to turn away from the bloodshed, her own pulse loud in her ears. Once the men are all securely unconscious or dead on the floor, she rushes over to her brother. 「I’m fine, fine, 」Freddie says, brushing at the red dripping from his nose. Satisfied that her brother had no real injury to him, she turned to Narcisse whose face was pallor and sickly. A far cry from his disposition only short hours ago.

 

His weak smile her way did nothing to ease her worry, and she finally spots the bloody wound in his side hiding beneath his pressing hands.

 

“Lord Narcisse, you’re hurt,” she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Narcisse tries to take a step away from her concerned advance, but stumbles over the feet of one of his assailants. Frederick grabs hold of him, steadying.

 

“Protestants,” he grits out, glaring at the dead men on the ground. Lola glances at Frederick nervously, her brother’s grip on Narcisse tightening. This was no time for that.

 

「Freddie, take him to my room. I’ll go fetch the physician, 」Lola instructs. Her brother nods, leading Narcisse away.

 

“Where are you taking me,” Narcisse asks, not understanding. He is too weak to protest, however.

 

“To my room,” she explains, cursing the waste of time. “I’ll find the court physician for you. Go, hurry.” Before she is even finished with her sentence, Narcisse slumps in Frederick’s arms having lost consciousness.


	7. say i'm in too deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that in this canon divergence, Mary is NOT raped. Please keep that in mind as you read this chapter. Sorry there is very little actual Lola/Narcisse. We have not reached that point yet and this is at its very core a Lola story.
> 
> Language indicators:  
> 「Scottish Gaelic.」  
> "French."

Lola is only half mindful of her own well being as she sought the court physician. The urgency of her knocking and the harried desperation in her voice was enough to call upon his services. After sending him to her quarters, worry entered her mind. If Protestants ventured to infiltrate the castle, it would not be simply to kill a Lord – even one as renowned as Narcisse. She hurries towards Mary and Francis’s chambers, almost forgetting the way in her anxiousness. Lola thinks of Jean-Philippe and her instincts pull her into hesitation. She should have made sure her son was safe. But Mary was all alone what with Francis in the wind.

 

Lady Lola argued that her son had his nanny, and Frederick will surely check on him at the earliest chance.

 

Mary was alone.

 

Soon, she will realize how much she had wished that were true.

 

She freezes in the doorway of her queen’s chambers. Guards – no, imposters – held Mary to the floor and it was all too clear what their intentions were. The horror of it rooted Lola to the spot, and it is a wonder that the villains had not spied her. It was evident her queen had already dressed for bed, dismissed her maidservants. Had the guards come in, feigning some castle emergency? _Mary, Mary, Mary_. She screamed in her mind. How to save her? With only one against three men? Were there any more of them?

 

Lola knew she had to act and quickly.

 

With her heart thundering in her chest, the fear in her so palpable she prayed her voice did not fail her. “STOP!” her voice resounded through the room as Lola stepped across the threshold. “What is the meaning of this? Release my lady at once!” If these men dared to try and sneak into the castle and attack the royal family, they had to be as foolish as she hoped them to be. The authority in her questions gave the men pause, turning on her. Lola made the most indiscernible look to Mary’s confused reaction.

 

 _Please_ , she silently called to her friend. _Let me do this for you_.

 

“Your Majesty,” her queen utters, the sound conveying what Lola already knew: she was so wholly scared, helpless. And the anger in Lola surged knowing that these men had caused it.

 

Realization dawned on the guard’s faces as they looked between each other.

 

“You’re Queen Mary of Scots?” one stood up, dagger in hand. He had a trimmed but thick beard, his hair a lighter shade of brown but equally short. There was a scar running across his left cheek, but it is the menace in his eyes that drew her attention. She tried her best to not falter – be a queen.

 

“Who are you? The captain will know of this,” she drew herself up to self-importance, though she felt none of it. Mary struggled against her captors when she saw the leader advance towards Lola, but the younger of the two struck her on the head effectively keeping her dead to the world.

 

Lady Lola launched herself towards Mary. “No!” she cried, but the man with the dagger easily intercepted her – shoving her against a tapestry.

 

“Queen Mary,” he breathes, his large hand gripped at her jawline. Her own hands clammered at his wrist, failing to pry him away from her. “A beauty no greater than a simple lady in waiting. A wonder the king found himself a mistress.”

 

She counted it a small fortune that Mary could not hear any of this.

 

“Release us, and I may not hang you,” she gritted, and her assailant clenched her throat tighter and gave her another slam against the wall. Her vision started to blur, darkening in spots – but the cold sharpness of a blade against her cheek brought her attentions back.

 

“Wouldn’t be making many demands if I were you,” he pushed the dagger blade just enough to make her aware of his threat. She tastes blood in her mouth, even as she felt it trail down her cheek. “Where is the king?”

 

Lola digs her fingers underneath his, easing his grip just enough, “I don’t know.”

 

“Perhaps he’s visiting his mistress?” one rebel suggested, and the image of Jean-Philippe flew into her mind.

 

“No,” she gasps. “He only said he was leaving the castle. To the village in the morning, but he never returned. Who _are_ you?”

 

In a quick flash, the man slammed his fisted dagger hand down onto Mary’s writing table nearby. The shattering sound channeling his anger at the idea that the king was not where he should be: in the castle and dead. “Who am I? Just another father mourning his son killed in the night by that bastard Cardinal. All for seeing the light.”

 

“This won’t bring him back,” she says, seeing now a man driven to violence.

 

“I’m not trying to be bring him back,” his blade was back against her face. “But I’ll make sure King Francis knows the depth of the pain he has caused us.” Her heart races, her knees starting to feel weak under her weight. Nausea threatened to erupt from her when he places the cold steel against her throat, beneath his hold on her.

 

“Please, mercy,” she pleads. Lola did not want to die. Not in this miserable city, in this foreign country. She wanted to see the beautiful green of her home, the piping music of her kin, and the raucous joy of the Scots. She wanted her mother and father to see Jean-Philippe, as the beautiful darling babe that he is.

 

Her attacker scoffed at her, “My boy was shown no mercy.” She cried out as the blade pressed against her throat, but his guttural howl of pain covered her own. She was released, as the man fell to the floor – the clatter from the dagger dropping against the floor rang in her ears.

 

She looked up from the bolt in the leader’s back to Sebastian sword fighting with one of the Protestant rebels, and Francis with the other. The brothers made quick work of them, and soon Bash was by her side. “Are you all right?”

 

Lola clamped her hand against her neck, trying to banish the feel of death that was threatening her moments before. “I will be,” she says. “Mary.” Bash nods, helping her to her feet. Francis is already to his queen’s side, propping her up in his arms.

 

“I’ll retrieve the physician,” Bash moves to leave, only for Lola to stop him.

 

“No, I will go,” she says, not wanting to explain that he was in her chambers rather than his own. Francis would not take lightly to this attack and less so on the idea that she was caring for a man who had lit such a dangerous flame. “Perhaps your attentions could be put to making sure the rest of the castle is secure?”

 

It was not her place to make suggestions to the King’s Deputy, but Francis could not argue. “She’s right, Bash. Please make sure my mother is well, as are the other lords and ladies. Shut down the castle. Let no one leave.” His eyes focused on the fallen rebels in his very chambers. “Kill any man unaccounted for on sight.”

 

 

 

 

++

 

 

 

 

 

Frederick fusses over her the moment she enters her rooms. 「I’m all right, 」she says, remembering their roles being reversed only an hour earlier. Lola informs the physician of his summons, and the situation of Queen Mary, and he leaves the moment he is finished with Narcisse.

 

The French Lord was still unconscious, lying across her settee and no more worse for the wear. He had some color returning to his cheeks in fact. She was grateful. She could admit herself of that, at the very least.

 

Canne brings Jean-Philippe to Lola at her request. The babe was sleeping and she wonders if her son would ever know of how close his mother came to death. Her shaking hands stop almost instantly when Canne places her son in her arms. The bundle acted as an anchor, keeping her solid, stable. Lola holds her son close as she wipes away at her tears, the exhaustion of what just happened catching up to her. She takes a few moments to know Jean-Philippe was safe and everyone was very much alive, with Freddie and Canne sitting close beside her, giving her comfort.

 

After explaining to them what had just occurred in Mary’s chambers, Freddie exclaims, 「All the more reason to come home with me. France is in a war with itself. 」

 

She shakes her head, hugging Jean-Philippe closer to her. 「This proves that I need to stay here, in fact. Mary needs me here. I couldn’t leave her. Not now. 」Not when she could still be of some use, some part to play. Lola’s eyes wander over to Narcisse’s sleeping form. 「Freddie, when he wakes, help him to his quarters. He shouldn’t be found here. 」

 

「I don’t think I can help such a man, 」Frederick responds, grimly. 「He’s that lord you spoke of, isn’t he? The one who pushes these incredulous edicts, forcing Protestants to hide and cower else their lives are in danger. 」

 

Lola closes her eyes and takes in a reaffirming breath, before taking Freddie’s hand in hers. 「It’s true, his actions have lead to appalling consequences. These were his beliefs – what he thought was for a better France. He was wrong. 」She squeezes his hand. 「But would hurting him be any better? Do you want to be like those angry men tonight? Who hurt him? Mary, your queen? Who hurt me? 」

 

Her brother swallows hard, and traces a thumb along the slice on her cheek, the line bright red and flaming. 「A younger me, perhaps. 」he admits. And just maybe her little brother was a man in his own right finally.

 

「For me, Freddie, 」Lola pleads and is content at his nod.

 

Lola returns to Francis and Mary’s chambers with Jean secure in her arms and his nanny, Lottie, in tow. Francis would want reassurance that his son did not have a single scratch to him. She wonders if she should call upon Mathieu and Denis herself, but could not bring herself to. There was mistrust among the guards right now. It was best to wait out the confusion until the Captain of the Guard could line his men up and account for them all.

 

The two men stationed outside of the king’s chambers announced her as she braced herself. Inside, Catherine de Medici stood straight backed and argumentative at the issue of the Protestants at hand. Francis’s face was grim, but shifted into a tired gentleness at seeing his son. Lola had a similar look on her face at seeing Mary awake in bed and sitting upright against the headboard. The two friends exchanged teary smiles across the room, but it was Francis who came to her side.

 

“Mary told us what you did, the sacrifice you made for her,” he explains. “I have never been more grateful to a single person. You saved her from a humiliation that could not only destroy her, but could affect the legitimacy of our crown. I don’t think we could have survived it, not when we were just finally getting back on our feet.”

 

Lola was so pleased to hear that he and Mary were mending their relationship, and she was more than ready to put this night behind her. But the attack on the castle had pushed the pressing matter of the Protestant uprisings into immediate light and she worried for what this meant.

 

“I hope you’ll find the strength in each other to face what is next,” Lola says.

 

“If there is any favor you ask of us, I will grant it,” Francis declares. “We owe you this debt.”

 

The situation was bound to get worse and she silently thanked Francis for the promise.

 

She was sure she would need it.


	8. a single word can make a heart open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Better late than never? Long chapter, because it would've been awkward to split it into two. Also I'm honestly really enjoying molding Frederick Douglas. Should I had 'slow burn' as a tag? Hmm.
> 
> Reflections post-castle invasion + Lola/Narcisse heart to heart. Enjoy.
> 
> Language indicator reminders.  
> "French." -spoken between Frenchmen/women and between French and Scots majority of the time.  
> 「Scottish Gaelic. 」-spoken primarily between two or more Scots.

The castle is a great deal more tense after the events of St. Nicholas’s Feast. An immediate barricade of the gates was implemented, with only trusted and proven guards charged to allow for the passage of traffic in or out of the grounds. Lola hears from Kenna that Bash has had his hands full investigating the King’s Guard, the noble houses, and the surviving intruders of that fateful night. Lola spots the brief, hushed exchanges between Bash and Francis and she wonders where Francis _had_ been when the assassination attempt occurred, and if Bash knew full well where.

 

Mary’s ladies spend these days in her company more often than not. Kenna happily agreed to being Mary’s bedmate for a time. ‘It is better than waiting lonely for the King’s Deputy,’ Kenna explains forlornly. Even the Lady Castleroy had deemed it her duty to return to the castle for a period to be in her Queen’s attendance, though there was something in Greer’s demeanor that made Lola more suspicious of her intent. She keeps a mindful eye on her dear friend, and while their paths have lead to their status as former-ladies, they were still attached to their Queen and Lola was only grateful that they were together again.

 

Except Aylee, her heart aches.

 

They sit around in Mary’s sitting room, the fire ablaze as the cold of winter surges through France in earnest. She has Jean-Philippe bundled in a sheepskin blanket by the hearth, idly entertaining him with the gems on her fingers and her necklace as the boy was constantly fascinated with objects of the shimmering sort. Kenna dismisses Mary’s maidservants after they’ve set a decanter of wine for them. 「Nothing like a warm belly to keep us from this freezing cold, 」Kenna sighs, savoring the sip.

 

「A wonder how the … prisoners are faring, 」Greer mumbles, and they all eye each other nervously. Francis had the surviving Protestant rebels and suspected castle servants to be kept out in the courtyard, chained and made to suffer the elements with nothing but the very cloth on their backs. ‘Let’s see how long they can last before they tell us of the conspiracy against the crown,’ Francis instructed, firm in his decision. The King of France had a new fire in him since the night of St. Nicholas’s Feast, and Lola worries that Narcisse would not survive it.

 

She scolds herself to think that Narcisse was any of her concern.

 

「I understand what you must be feeling, Greer, 」 Mary says. 「You have to sympathize with them on some level, given your husband… 」

 

“No, no,” Greer shakes her head, adamant. “It’s not – I abhor what they did, truly. It is a just punishment.” Lola looks away at the hesitation in Greer’s voice.

 

Mary took no notice of it, 「I’m glad, because I must confess that I do not pity these men who used violence to terrorize the crown. I have done everything I can to bridge this hatred between Protestants and Catholics, but now I cannot will myself to show compassion to them. Not having been almost… 」

 

The word hangs in the air between them. Murdered? Raped? Which was worse?

 

Mary had been lucky. They all were that night, but they had learned of the casualties soon after securing the castle. The Lord and Lady Janvier, as well as their youngest son, were found dead in the nobles’ wing. Several serving staff. A stableboy. The Lady Fleury, an older noblewoman, miserly and overbearing, but whose end was undeserved. And one that had struck at Freddie, the young girl he had made acquaintance with at the Feast – the daughter of Lord de Roux. Jehanne, she recalls the name having only acquired it after learning of the girl’s death. Her brother was cavalier and reckless, but he was not unmoving. Lola suggested that she ask for a pardon from Francis to allow her brother passage home to Scotland, he did not need to bear the ghost of a girl he hardly knew. Freddie had refused, saying only that this barricade will give him time to think and reflect - about the world in which they lived. She could only acquiesce, ill at ease by Freddie’s subdued countenance. ‘Send word to Father, at least,’ urged Lola. ‘He will worry.’

 

‘For the both of us,’ Freddie responded. Lola offered a weak smile.

 

「Has there been any news from the interrogations?」 Lola asks, a sudden need to know what devil had possessed these men into such a brash attack. Had the Cardinal done irreversible damage? Will the crown be forgiven for allowing such an inquisition? Greer occupies her hands with her goblet as Mary answers.

 

「Only that they were paid a large sum, but no one has said where the money had come. 」

 

「How large? Is it Elizabeth? Has she found assassins to come after you? 」 Kenna is incredulous.

 

Mary shakes her head, 「My cousin is ruthless, but this – it’s almost clumsy. I don’t believe it was her. 」

 

「But it is more unsettling to think it could be someone closer, 」 Lola says. 「And by someone with such power to buy the lives of these rebels. 」

 

「We will know in due time, 」 Queen Mary hums. 「I have faith. 」

 

「We all do, 」Greer murmurs, and the ladies fall silent. 「Isn’t that the problem? 」

 

 

 

++

 

 

 

Lola savours the freedom she is allowed with Frederick to accompany her about French Court. Mary, grateful of her but altogether still distrustful of castle guards, has agreed to Lola’s replacement of Mathieu and Denis for the future Lord Douglas. 「Is this what little use I am to you? 」 Freddie teases, in a rare change of mood.

 

「You’ve been more useful this past week than you’ve ever been to me, 」 she jibes but Freddie only laughs, contrite at the reminder of the fool of a boy he has been. His cheer abruptly halts as he recognized whose quarters they had just arrived to. Freddie sighs, careful to hide his face from the sentries outside the doors. 「Forgive me my foolishness, 」 Lola pleads. 「When I found myself floundering here, feeling alone by myself, I have only him to thank for what little I could keep of my own. 」

 

She could never have imagined confessing this to her brother – young, rash, and unreliable Freddie – before her closest friends. Perhaps she is still too proud on some level, and she has never seen Freddie as anything but that young, rash, and _loveable_ Freddie. Freddie, who had no history with Narcisse other than the man he saved from the brutal hatred of the people who worshiped as he and saw him only through the bias of his sister. Lord Narcisse had incited such religious hatred, but has given Lola a hope she had no inkling of in recent months. How anyone survived French Court, Freddie could only marvel at.

 

「I have seen very little of the man who has earned your respect, 」 Freddie sighs, consenting. 「But earned your respect, he has. That must count for something. 」

 

Lola gives his hand a squeeze, gladdened.

 

She straightens herself and approaches the sentries – one posted on each side of the door. Francis had them assigned ‘in order to discourage further attempts on the Lord Narcisse’s life’, though there is full understanding in the royal circle that the sentries were meant to keep the Lord in rather than to keep any assassins out. King Francis had plans for Narcisse, there is no doubt on that front.

 

“My lady…” greets the older of the two – though by the look of him, he couldn’t have been much older than Lola herself. It was clear that they were unsure of who she even was. Such chaos in the castle guards that leaves such young men to service…

 

She clasps her hands, straightening her arms – a genial smile on her face. “I’ve been tasked by the King to see Lord Narcisse,” she explains.

 

“Pardon rudeness, my lady,” he says. “You are…”

 

Freddie is already indignant and ready to scold them on their ignorance, but Lola waves him back. “Lady Lola,” she announces herself, hesitating on further details. It is still a title she is ashamed of, moreso in front of Freddie. “I am the King’s Mistress.” She swallows hard.

 

The guards exchange looks. “My lady,” the other finally speaks, a voice so timid she suspects she could’ve made him flinch with a sudden step forward. “We were instructed to not allow anyone in, save for the physician.”

 

“Is that so?” Lola leans forward, confusion on her face. “Has no one else been in? No one’s brought him food? What of his page? Not even the maid that empties his chamberpot? What a stink there must be in there...”

 

Freddie stifles a snort at how the guards balk. “No, my lady. That is --- to say…”

 

“Must King Francis detail the specifics of your duty? He has instructed me to see Narcisse, and if you do not allow me to do so, I’m afraid the king won’t be very pleased to know that he has to leave his work so that he may list all the people in the whole of France that you may or may not allow through these doors.”

 

“It is more like that the king will send his deputy, who is – I hear – much more impatient at such incompetence as of late,” Freddie interjects. Lola nods, “Yes, Sebastian is often short of temper these days.”

 

The first guard starts to visibly sweat under Lola’s scrutiny. “Will you be long, my lady?” He asks.

 

“You mustn’t rush the king’s business,” she chides. “But I can promise that it won’t take me longer than it is needed.”

 

The sentries both shoot each other final looks and bow before the first props the door open for the Scottish nobles. Lord Narcisse’s quarters are extravagant, fitting for France’s richest and most influential nobleman. The banner of his house is hung over the fireplace in his sitting room, with a large desk made of a beautiful redwood, polished and fine. The light of the evening sun cast an almost warm glow through the place, a feeling unexpected to be associated with a man of his reputation. It is expectedly quiet, and she wonders if Narcisse is carefully listening to their movements from his bedchamber or if he was fast asleep. Lola hopes for the latter. She lightly makes her way to his desk, pulling out drawers here and there as quietly as possible. Some maps, official letters, invitations, the mold for his seal, and then – she discovers in a back page of a ledger – notes. Not letters, no name addressed but written were some cryptic words with the only identifiers as ‘B’ and ‘M’.

 

‘ _M transported to Cadenet, 5 kilometers east. –B’_

_‘Five days, moving again. Lille. –B’_

_‘M has signed. –B’_

She thumbed the small notes to find four more with messages just as vague. She was certain Lille was a town. Lola isn’t sure how she knew, perhaps a stray name she heard as they traveled from Estelle’s home back to the castle through plague-infested parts. 「What is it? 」 Freddie asks, peeking over her shoulder. She chews her lip, conflicted as to whether she ought to involve him further.

 

Lola has confessed to him more than she had to anyone else these past few months. He deserved to know, at the very least be aware of the kind of man Narcisse was capable of. She glances at the doors to the bedchamber, and shows her brother the mysterious notes with a warning finger to her lips. He commits the details to memory, and she slips the notes back in their place.

 

“My Lady Lola,” a voice jolts them, and she starts. The page Marceau bends in greeting, clearly surprised to see her upon returning to his master’s quarters.  The boy was loyal to Narcisse, else the Lord would never have allowed such familiarity with Lola. No doubt Marceau knew of their many meetings, however secret or not. “The King Francis—,”

 

“Don’t worry yourself of the king,” Lola says, gathering herself again. She straightens, clutching her hands and moving seamlessly away from Narcisse’s desk. She gestures to her brother, “This is Lord Frederick of Douglas of the Scottish Lowlands, and my brother.” Marceau bows low, respectfully. They had met briefly the night of the invasion, but did not exchange pleasantries as Freddie delivered the unconscious Lord Narcisse to his rooms.

 

Marceau is apologetic, “My lord is asleep at the moment, my lady. Perhaps I can relay a message for you.”

 

“I should prefer to speak with him directly,” Lola says. “If you’re afraid he’ll be angry, tell him I’ve sent you to look in on Eloy. It’s much colder now, and he could use a blanket on a brisk day as this.” Marceau understands her hinting but remains steadfast.  

 

“I’m not afraid, m’lady,” Marceau. “I shall look in on Lord Narcisse at your request.” Lola blinks nervously at not having able to put off the boy, but her nerves begin to jitter waiting to see Narcisse for the first time since that night. Their meeting at Bertrand’s had left them on clashing terms, with their following dance muddying the waters further. But seeing him pale and near death, a vulnerability he so unwillingly relinquished proved to her just how utterly ensnared she was. Practicality told her to build an impenetrable wall to this man, but something deeper and more visceral was yelling that he was what she needed to run towards.

 

 _How very ‘French court’_ , she thinks, mockingly.

 

Marceau returns, gesturing for them to enter. Lola takes a breath, steeling herself as she seems to always do when encountering the French Lord. The men allow her to cross the threshold first, and inside she sees Narcisse prop himself. He looked tired, she observes, mostly like from his injuries and that she had just woken him.

 

“No need to move on my account, Lord Narcisse,” she says kindly, situating herself in the chair at his bedside without invitation. He settles again, and by his wince, she was sure it was not out of obedience but necessity. Lola didn’t know in what condition to expect him, but he certainly looked as though he was recovering from a serious stab wound. “We thought to pay you a visit to see how you are,” she begins. It was not untrue, she truly wanted to see him, but more than that she wanted whatever answers he could provide about the night of St. Nicholas’s Feast and whatever level of involvement he may have had. _Answers_ , she tells herself. _To an endless list of queries._

 

Lola was acutely aware of Marceau’s watchful gaze at her back. “Marceau has shown admirable loyalty, scarce willing to leave you.” Narcisse levels her stare before looking at his page.

 

“Some water, Marceau,” he orders, concise. Lola is relieved to hear the subsequent opening and shutting of doors. “Get on with your business.” She felt inexplicable hurt at the impatient tone in his voice. To say Narcisse was a proud man would be a gross understatement. And for him to have been assailed upon by cowards, injured, and knowing he was being kept prisoner, Lola surmises it is not actually herself that he is short with.

 

Following his suspicious look at her brother, she reiterates, “Truly, we came to see to your health.” Narcisse snorts.

 

“Francis has made it clear he doesn’t want me to dying – not yet, in any case,” he swallows bitterly. “He wants it to be by his own hand most like.” Lola is surprised at his frankness especially in front of Freddie, Queen Mary’s loyal Scotsman.

 

“And good riddance,” Freddie mutters. Lola sends him a disparaging look over her shoulder and when she turns back to Narcisse, his eyes flash from her face to her brother’s. She is suddenly mindful of the apparent scab across her cheek where her attacker had left his mark.

 

“I do not expect your sympathy, Lord Frederick,” he responds. “Nor should I, given your … heathen beliefs.”

 

Freddie launches towards the bedridden man, and Lola was barely able to launch herself up and in her brother’s path. “Freddie,” she warns, eyes deploring him. But his anger could only focus on the smirking French lord. 

 

“I should have left you to die,” he clenches his jaw. “Because of you, innocents were slaughtered on what should have been a merry day. Your Queen was almost raped, and my sister nearly—,”

 

「Freddie!」She all but yells, taking him by the arm. She had never seen him wound so tightly. Has he really been stewing on all this rage this whole time? Was he so passionate about the rights of Protestants, or perhaps Jehanne? Or both? 「You should go. Wait for me a while. I’m sorry I’ve burdened you by forcing you to face him.」

 

「I’m not leaving you, 」he says, stubborn and protective.

 

「You’re liable to do something worse if you stay,」Lola argues. 「Please.」She was certain that if Narcisse had understood, he would’ve done more to taunt the brash young Scotsman. But she was thankful that Freddie tore himself away and left the room in a still-angry flutter. Taking a few breaths, she returns to her seat already so drained and she had yet Narcisse still had yet to divulge the information she was here to seek.

 

“I see the family resemblance,” Narcisse remarked, though his eyes showed no real jest behind the comment. “Or perhaps it is a general trait of your people.”

 

“Any base animal will attack when provoked,” she replies. Narcisse quirks a brow.

 

“And had I provoked him? I wasn’t aware.”

 

“You don’t seem to be aware of how many of your actions truly affect people, Narcisse,” she sighs, a moment of frustration showing on her face. A weariness, a tiredness. Narcisse did not miss it.

 

The concern in his next question proceeded to surprise them both. “Were you hurt? Did they touch you?”

 

“I’m as well as can be expected,” is her quick response.

 

In truth, she had relived those moments over and over in her head. How could she not, given how close she was to never seeing Jean-Philippe again. One night, she jolted awake with the ghost of the sharp steel against her neck and the bitter iron taste of blood in her mouth. More terrifying however, had been the dead and desperate eyes of the man sworn on taking vengeance for his son haunting her dreams and wakefulness. She wonders what would be if she had lost Jean-Philippe in such a heinous way. Would she have been any saner than he was? And then she realizes then, that feeling of despair and innate wrath – that was what has been fueling Narcisse these past months.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Lola,” Narcisse admonishes, and suddenly she feels small. Whatever issues she herself have had, they all seem insignificant in the face having lost one’s son. She braves herself to look straight at him. “Difficult as it is to describe what is between us… lies certainly aren’t it.”

 

He was right. Frustrating as their … relationship was, she had always found herself unusually honest with him. About fears, about worries, about what struggle she could resolve. There were secrets, yes, but no lies.

 

She takes hold of the knitted cowl, wrapped carefully around her neck. Lola was thankful that the cold had given her pretense to adorn herself with such a cover. She pulled the garment away, revealing the deep bruises across her throat. Some areas had started to heal, fading into an ugly yellow hue. They were difficult to look at, even more so than the apparent mar on her cheek. Lola pulls at the threads of her scarf.

 

“It was after Freddie and I had rescued you. I went to see to Mary, and found her surrounded by those men disguised as castle guards. They’d come for Francis, but we didn’t know where he was. It was horrid, what they were going to do,” she swallows, unable to speak it. Narcisse listens intently, a storm brewing behind blue eyes. “So I rushed in, pretended to be Mary – the Queen, and they believed me. They didn’t … touch me, only left me with these gifts.” She gestures feebly at her injuries. “Luckily, Francis and Bash arrived in time.”

 

Narcisse is quiet as she watches the flames in the fireplace. “Do you know what one of the men said when I asked why?” She continues, “‘Who are you?’ He said he’d lost his son to the Cardinal’s inquisition, who had come to fulfill Francis’s edict that you had forced on him.”

 

“Have you come to point the finger?” Narcisse snaps. “I am not blind to the Protestant’s motivations.”

 

“Then why haven’t you seen what it has done to France?” Lola sighs, leaning forward. “This country is at a brink and we need to tip it back.”

 

“There is very little I can do under lock and key,” he mutters, but he is resigned to his own culpability in these events. For that, Lola is optimistic. “I expect once I am well and able to stand trial, he will execute me.”

 

Her heart plummets then, and the force of the feeling renders her speechless momentarily. “Why?”

 

“Lord Montgomery, the man I had tucked away in order to keep Francis… malleable,” he teases the word she had used when they danced. “I suspect he is dead, as well as my man, Balfont.” _‘M’ and ‘B’_ , she remembers the mysterious notes.

 

“… That was where Francis was that night,” she utters her realization, thinking on numerous hushed whispers between he and his deputy lately. _Sebastian, too_.

 

“I no longer have insurance against the king,” Narcisse winces as he shifts himself. Lola moves closer to help him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I was too arrogant. I thought him a child. A man capable of murdering his own father would know how to play this game. One way or another, he will try me for the castle invasion. Then you all can finally be rid of me.”

 

“I don’t want that,” she says and she feels she means it.

 

Narcisse’s eyes are full of something heartwrenching and Lola feels anxiousness and panic at his own surrender. “I am sorry, Lady Lola. I’ve wished for many things in my life. A fine legacy, the greatness of France, my son back… And for you and I to have known each other under better circumstances.”

 

And she hates, hates, hates that he would confide in her with this now, after all that has happened between them. The secret smiles, the knowing looks, the exasperated teasing. The fear and the anger and the excitement.

 

Only when she has found herself finally resolute in her affections towards Narcisse…

 

… the words she hears are of goodbye.


End file.
